


the barnes-romanoff babysitting service

by tempestaurora



Series: hydra's not a home [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Babysitting, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Gen, Hydra, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Peter says Fuck, Teen rating for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: “I don’t need a babysitter,” Peter grumbled as he sank into the sofa, arms crossed tightly over his chest.“SHIELD says otherwise,” Pepper replied, her voice light.“I’m seventeen,” Peter shot back. “I can look after myself.”“I don’t doubt that,” Pepper replied. “But you’re not allowed to look after yourself.”“You know, once,” Peter said, as if she hadn’t spoken, “I got shot in the alps and I dug the bullet out all by myself and got myself back to base and I completed my mission to assassinate the ambassador from Sweden.”Pepper paused, behind him. She then planted a kiss on the top of his head. “That is horrifying. Never tell me about that again."-Bucky volunteers to look after Peter for the weekend and Natasha just wants to hang out with her favourite spider.





	the barnes-romanoff babysitting service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paintmosi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paintmosi/gifts).



> honestly, this feels messy, but I wanted to post something and I wanted to do this bonding fic before I forgot so here it is. Jessica Jones features because I love her and I think it'll be cool to bring her back later.
> 
> vivicrazy7 requested this particular mix of bonding and this fic is dedicated to Paintmosi bc i've just really enjoyed all your comments so far dude

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Peter grumbled as he sank into the sofa, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“SHIELD says otherwise,” Pepper replied, her voice light. Her overnight bag was sitting on the kitchen table, her handbag by its side, and she left them to stand behind the sofa and run her hands through Peter’s hair. He kept his glare, steadfast. “Peter,” she said, smiling. “It’ll only be for the weekend.”

“I’m seventeen,” Peter shot back. “I can look after myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Pepper replied. “But you’re not _allowed_ to look after yourself.”

“You know, once,” Peter said, as if she hadn’t spoken, “I got shot in the alps and I dug the bullet out all by myself _and_ got myself back to base _and_ I completed my mission to assassinate the ambassador from Sweden.”

Pepper paused, behind him. She then planted a kiss on the top of his head. “That is horrifying. Never tell me about that again. Besides,” she continued, her voice forcibly casual. “You love Bucky. You’ll get to hang out with him all weekend. Think of it as staying with a friend, not being babysat. Did you pack your phone charger?”

Peter nodded and finally tilted his head to look up at her. “It’s only two days,” he said, quiet, his last hope. “Do I _have_ to?”

“Sorry, baby,” Pepper replied. “You’re not allowed to be left alone until your parole is up. It’s either Bucky or you spend the weekend following Fury around.”

Peter, secretly, found the idea hilarious. Fury and he didn’t see eye to eye, and Peter still hadn’t warmed up to him, since he’d spent ten years cursing his very name. He had a feeling that following Fury around would very quickly end up with him sitting in a lab, bored out of his mind and in the hands of whatever agent was unlucky enough to be in the corridor when Fury reached the end of his rope.

Peter preferred to spend the weekend with Bucky in Stark Tower.

Tony arrived then, a small duffle bag in one hand that he dumped next to Pepper’s on the table. Peter’s was sitting by the door, sulking just like him.

“You ready to go, kid?”

Peter huffed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tony and Pepper were headed out to Japan for a conference they couldn’t avoid. The two of them had been putting off a lot of important SI work to look after Peter and be around, but it had finally caught up to them. There was a meeting with all the boards of Stark Industries, from all their various offices around the globe, and the owner and CEO needed to be there.

Peter had asked if he could come along, but that would mean facing a problem none of them had figured out a solution to just yet: acknowledging his existence to the world. Peter Parker (or Stark, as he used to be) was back with his parents and only the Avengers knew.

They piled into one of Tony’s Audis, Happy Hogan sitting in the front as Tony drove. Pepper answered emails on her phone and Peter stared out the window as Stark Tower drew closer. It had been repaired in the weeks since his field trip – the window Iron Man had broken through, the blood that Peter had spilled across the SI exhibition, the destroyed furniture and dented walls that the other Avengers had caused during their fight.

It was the 27th of December and school would be back in session in the next week. Peter didn’t want to know if the rumours of what he did were still swirling – Ned and Michelle had bets that they were. Flash had texted three times since winter break started about hanging out, but Peter was barely allowed out of his own house, let alone to go and meet with someone he didn’t really like. (Peter _had_ been allowed to visit Ned’s on two occasions, as long as Peter sent hourly texts to Tony to confirm he was still alive, and two SHIELD agents loitered across the street.)

When they parked in the underground garage of the tower, Tony turned to look at Peter with a smile. “We’ll be back on the 29th,” he promised. “Just be good for Bucky until then, okay?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Occasionally, Tony would say things that felt less like Tony Stark and more like Tony, Peter’s father. He still nodded, however, sent a smile back to Tony to appease him, and let Pepper wrap him in a quick hug. She pressed her lips against his temple for a split second.

“We’ll text you when we land,” she said. “Do you want us to pick anything up from Japan for you?”

Peter cracked a smile. “I heard Japan is really into woodlice,” he said. He’d read about it online. “Could you bring me back one of the plushies?”

Pepper blinked at him, not even masking her disgust. “I will, only because you asked, but I’m not happy about that at all.”

Peter grinned and opened the car door, deciding to climb out before anyone questioned his request. “Thanks, bye, love you!” he called, shutting the door behind him and swinging his bag over his shoulder.

Peter forced himself not to freeze up and keep moving. _Love you, love you, love you_. Had he ever said that to them? He must’ve, when he was little, but Peter had no recollection of it. His parents had told him it a few times, soft with promises to never let him be taken again; that they’d protect him better this time around. Peter had never said it back.

He didn’t look to the car as he met with the security guards waiting at the parking lot’s elevator entrance. The engine didn’t start rolling until the doors were sliding shut.

 

-

 

Sergeant Bucky Barnes didn’t live in Stark Tower, despite the floors dedicated to the Avengers and their bedrooms. However, he was staying there for the weekend, just like Peter, because it was safer than his shitty apartment in Brooklyn that he was camped out in until the compound was up again.

Peter collapsed onto the sofa beside Bucky after dumping his bag, and they sat in silence until Bucky finished the page of the book he was reading.

“Stop that,” Bucky muttered. “I don’t need a hole in the side of my head.”

Peter averted his gaze from where he was staring, and looked to the television, mounted on the wall.

“Alright,” Bucky said, throwing his book onto the coffee table. “What do you wanna do this weekend?”

“Can we go out somewhere?” Peter asked. Peter rarely got to go places, as much as they all knew he needed it. It was difficult to call on SHIELD agents every day to hang around and watch Peter shop, and it was more of a challenge to have control over the scenario. At least in school, there were SHIELD agents that had just been hired as teachers, and the alarm system connected directly to Tony’s phone (though the school didn’t know that). School buildings had a limited amount of variables; a limited amount of things that could go wrong.

New York, on the other hand, was a mess of people and mistakes and poorly concealed weapons.

Bucky shrugged like this meant nothing to him. “Sure,” he said. “Though Nat’s decided she wants to hang out with us, too. She’s on mission until tomorrow morning, though.”

They spent the evening watching movies that apparently they both _had_ to see, and ordered take out because Peter was still bad at cooking and Bucky didn’t know much other than very basic meals. (“Pasta,” he said, when Peter asked what he could cook. “I can cook pasta and I can make a mean sandwich.”)

They watched _Jaws_ , which Peter rolled his eyes at about ten times before finally saying, “You know, Michelle says that its movies like this that make people afraid of sharks.”

“No kidding,” Bucky replied, indifferent. “That shark just ate a guy.”

“Yeah, and because movies like this perpetuate the idea that sharks are dangerous, more sharks are being killed. At least, that’s what Michelle told me.”

They watched _The Shape of Water_ afterwards, to which Bucky said, “Do movies about women dating fish monsters perpetuate the idea that fish monsters are actually all softies, when in reality they’re dangerous and also not real?”

Peter threw a handful of popcorn at Bucky and then frowned at the screen. “Would you rather be eaten by the _Jaws_ shark or fuck the fish monster?” he asked.

Bucky was silent for all of two seconds before he said, “Fuck a fish monster,” and gave no explanation as to why.

 

-

 

The next day, Nat was in the kitchen when Peter woke up.

He was staying on a secure Avengers floor, sleeping in a spare room, rather than the penthouse where the Starks used to live.

“Morning mой ребенок-паук,” Nat said with a smile.

“мать-паук,” Peter replied with a nod. “Have you eaten yet?” Nat held up a cup of coffee in response, and Peter rolled his eyes. “Not a meal,” he commented, pulling out two cereal bowls from the cupboard. “How’d the mission go?”

Nat shrugged. “No major problems,” she replied, watching Peter pour the cereal out. The cupboard only had Frosted Flakes and Lucky Charms. He gave them both Lucky Charms and pretended he didn’t see Nat’s hidden smile.

“Oh, yeah? That black eye would say otherwise.”

Nat’s right eye was painted purple. Her lip was cut and bruised, and she had a small gash just over her left eyebrow. “You call this major?” she asked. “No, this is smaller than minor.”

Peter placed the milk on the table and Nat thanked him before pouring it over the cereal. They ate in companionable silence until Bucky finally arrived. He, like Nat, made himself a strong black coffee and pretended it was breakfast.

“Where are we going today?” Peter asked, shovelling the last spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“We’re going out?” Nat questioned.

“He needs fresh air, like a puppy,” Bucky replied with a shrug.

“Oh,” Nat said. “Then we should go to the park. Play fetch.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Woof.”

 

-

 

They went to the park, not to play fetch but to just walk around and talk. Bucky wore a hat to cover his hair and a thick jacket to hide his arm. Being the middle of winter, and also part spider, Peter got colder than normal people and was bundled up in a jacket, coat, hat, scarf and gloves as he walked between the two assassins.

_Three assassins walk into a bar_ , he joked silently.

The park was largely empty, and eventually they came across a child’s play park, with frost-covered swing sets and slides. With no one around, the three of them sat on the swings, talking about Peter’s school and friends and New Years plans. At one point, Peter climbed up the jungle gym like it was second nature, and stood on top of the bars, as tall as the trees that surrounded the grassy area. He looked out across the park, as far as he could see, and then the cloudy sky that hung over New York.

His eyes located Stark Tower, and his mind provided the image of a wormhole directly above it. HYDRA had been a hidden concept at the time; no one knew they were still around, at least outside of miniature factions. So HYDRA stayed hidden and Peter had watched, enraptured, on the television. He was only ten or so, when the aliens attacked New York.

He didn’t hate the Avengers right off the bat – not until he was told to. Instead, he stared, wide-eyed with the rest of the young recruits, as Iron Man flew a nuke into the wormhole and vanished, before free falling towards the ground.

(They didn’t talk about New York, the Mandarin, or a man named Vanko. They didn’t talk about Tony’s childhood, or his wild years, or his father. There were a lot of things they didn’t talk about.)

At lunch, they ate in a quiet chain restaurant that served them burgers and fries and milkshakes that Peter devoured without a moment’s hesitation. They watched out the window as a woman with dark hair held a car with her bare hands as it tried to drive away. When the driver swore out the window at her, she dropped it, handed him an envelope, and Peter could hear the words _you’ve been served_ coming from her mouth.

“Who the hell is that?” he asked, watching her walk away.

“Jessica Jones,” Nat replied, light. “She’s a private investigator.”

“Who can pick up a car.”

“Yeah. She’s strong.”

It sounded like Nat knew more than she was letting on, but Peter dropped that line of inquiry. Instead, he perked up, looking over to her and Bucky, sitting opposite him at the booth. “Do you think I could beat her in an arm wrestle?”

They went shopping and meandered around malls that Peter had never seen before. He asked them questions and they gave him easy answers, because everything was easy with the two assassins – they didn’t make anything needlessly complex. In an Apple store, an employee was getting confused at a woman’s line of questioning regarding what she wanted in her phone, and as the employee became flustered, Peter tapped her on the shoulder and gave her the answer she’d been looking for.

They visited a pet shop, because the afternoon was wearing on and none of them wanted to go home yet. Peter didn’t want to sit up in the tower, above the city, when he could finally be a part of it. (Part of him, a large chunk of him, wanted Tony and Pepper there, so they could tell him about the city, too. He was experiencing a whole part of New York for the first time, and they weren’t there to see it.)

They pet the dogs and cats in the shop, and Bucky let a jet-black cat with an evil look in its eye leap up his metal arm and saunter across his shoulders. Nat and the Labrador puppy became rather fond of each other and Peter met a Collie that had his heart in a second. The worker in the shop didn’t mind them hanging out with the animals and left them to it, until Peter announced he was hungry again and they walked back out into the city in search of food.

“Hey,” Peter said later, as the sky was darkening, “You’re like my cool Uncle and Aunt, right?”

“You want something from us,” Nat said. She looked to Bucky. “He wants something from us.”

“There’s just somewhere I want to go, is all,” Peter said. “I saw it in a lot of movies and I’ve never been to one before.”

Bucky and Nat exchanged a look and thirty minutes later, the three of them were sat in a dive bar, rock music playing overhead, a game of pool in the far end of the room and some sport playing on the television behind the bar.

They sat around a table, Bucky and Nat holding their pints of beer and Peter half-heartedly glaring at the juice box Bucky had bought for him.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “You could’ve at least gotten me a lemonade.”

Bucky snorted. “Drink your juice box and stop complaining.”

Peter did. It was hard to pout while drinking something with Elsa from _Frozen_ on the side. He hadn’t even seen that movie, but that just made it more difficult.

_Three assassins walk into a bar_ , he thought again, taking a look at his surroundings. _And no one gets hurt because none of them are on the clock._

“Hey,” Peter said as his eyes caught on a figure at the bar. “Is that that investigator lady?”

The other two glanced over, their gaze landing on the woman.

“Seems that way,” Bucky said.

“How do you know about her anyway?” Peter asked.

Nat shrugged. “She was in the news a while back when she murdered a guy.”

Peter choked on his juice. “Maybe she should sit with us. Place all the murderers in the building at one table.”

The joke didn’t land the way he wanted it to, and he just received two disapproving looks from his friends. Peter looked back to Jones. She seemed to be nursing a drink and staring into space.

“Why’d she do it?” he asked.

“He was a psychopath,” Nat replied. “Killed people, raped people – he could control minds.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “That’s fucked up.”

“Agreed. She did what she had to do.”

“Why didn’t the Avengers fix it?” Peter asked, but he already knew the answer.

“The Avengers don’t solve every problem,” Bucky said. Some things weren’t on their radar – they were too small, too localised. He’d never heard of an Avenger stopping a mugging – the Avengers were big scale, facing aliens, kill-bots, _Peter_. Vigilantes like Jessica Jones were small-scale; neighbourhoods, burning buildings, rapists.

It occurred to Peter, not for the first time, that the little guy needed protecting a lot more often than the world did. That the only way to protect the little guy was through vigilantes who took matters into their own hands; whose big picture was a lot smaller than the world, and more like an asshole who controlled people and needed to be stopped.

“I need another juice box,” he said, and watched as Bucky rolled his eyes and dropped a few coins into his hand.

Peter pulled himself out of his seat and made his way to the bar. He was about a metre away from Jones and she didn’t even acknowledge him when he arrived. Instead, the bartender raised her eyebrow at him.

“What are you, fourteen?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“Seventeen,” Peter corrected.

“Still too young.”

“Not for a juice box,” he replied.

The bartender laughed, shook her head and went in search for the juice. Peter looked at the woman next to him.

“Miss Jones?” he asked, quiet. She took a moment before looking over and he swallowed. She didn’t look intimidating on the outside, but he’d seen her pick up a car already that day. “I think it’s pretty cool that you’re out here, helping people.” She opened her mouth to reply, but Peter kept going. “The Avengers aren’t around for the killers and everyday assholes. I’m glad there are people that are, though. So, thanks for looking out for us, I guess.”

Jessica Jones stared at him for a moment longer, before the bartender arrived with a juice box. This one had a picture of a smiling snowman on it, and Peter didn’t want to understand the reference. He paid the money and turned back to the booth.

“Who the hell are you?” Jones asked.

“Peter Parker,” he replied with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Miss Jones.”

He knew her eyes were on him when he returned to Nat and Bucky, telling the latter of them that the drink cost exactly the amount he’d been given as he pocketed the change, but he didn’t look back.

His mind crossed back to the same thought he’d been thinking for a few weeks, since the field trip. Jessica Jones was out there being a vigilante, helping people. He figured there were more and resolved to find out about them – but Peter knew that he could be one of them too. Helping the little guy.

He didn’t want to fight the aliens, right now. He didn’t want to take down HYDRA and face the past that was still chasing him – he just wanted to help solve the problems the Avengers would never even hear about. Be the good guy instead of the bad.

 

-

 

Peter was practicing with the ninja stars Clint had bought him for Christmas when his parents returned to Stark Tower. Christmas had been a quiet affair, spent with the other Avengers that had no family to return to for the holidays. Peter couldn’t remember celebrating Christmas, so they’d given him a lesson in it; the tree, the presents, the meal.

His parents had kissed his forehead when they thought he was asleep, late that night, and whispered their _I love yous_.

“It unnerves me how good you are with those,” Pepper commented as the star hit dead centre of the silhouette’s chest.

“It unnerves _me_ how everyone bought you weapons for Christmas instead of toys,” Tony muttered. (Tony had bought him more books, because Peter was running out of ones he hadn’t read. This time, they came in the form of science fiction and fantasy. Peter was half way through the first _Lord of the Rings_ book and had many questions he wanted answered.)

“Have a good trip?” Peter asked.

“As good as to be expected when forty old men sit around a table and complain for six hours,” Pepper replied. Peter ditched the ninja stars on the floor and let Pepper bring him in for a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Did you have a good time with Bucky?”

“I hear you went to the park,” Tony said.

“And a pet shop,” Peter replied. “There was this kitten with three legs called Lucky and she sneezed like five times in a row.”

His parents always looked younger when they smiled; like the weight of the world was lifted from their shoulders for just a moment. When they smiled, they looked like they did in the photos of Peter’s childhood, ten years younger with a happy family and a lot of possibilities stretched out before them.

“I wish you’d been there,” Peter said, before he could stop himself.

“At the pet shop?”

“Yeah, and the park and… and just been there when I was seeing the city for the first time, you know?”

“I get it, kid,” Tony said. He wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “We’ll be there for plenty of your other firsts, though. I bet you haven’t seen Shakespeare in the Park.”

“What’s that?”

“Community theatre. They have a yearly Battle of New York play and the guy who plays the Hulk has to cover himself head to toe in green body paint.”

They laughed and Peter grinned widely. He spoke before he’d thought the words through. “I – uh, I know I don’t really say it a whole lot, or ever, I guess, but I love you guys. You didn’t have to take me in after what I did, no matter my biology, but you did and you’ve been really great to me ever since, and–”

Peter was wrapped in his parents’ arms and he sunk into the embrace. There was that comforting feeling of home that he’d been relearning over the past few months.

“We love you too, Peter,” Tony said, quiet. “We love you so much.”

 

-

 

Peter didn’t see Jessica Jones again for a long time, but he didn’t think much of that. Occasionally, he’d look her and the other “Defenders” up, marvelling at their strength and fighting and glowing fists. When he did watch them, he’d note where they fought; Hell’s Kitchen, Harlem, Manhattan. In fact, when Peter had created a map of their exploits, there was only one place in New York where they rarely went, where no one protected the little guy.

“Queens,” Peter whispered.

He could see it already: _The Spider of Queens._

He called up Ned immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never seen Jaws, The Shape of Water or Shakespeare in the Park. I'd rather be eaten by a shark than fuck a fish monster, though.
> 
> THANK U FOR READING  
> pls hit up the comments or my tumblr (tempestaurora) to tell me ur thoughts and feelings. if there's anything u want to see, let me know! i have a long list of fics for this series and a story of redemption and publicity and family that i want to tell so if there's anything u want to see just let me know
> 
> thank u for taking the time to read this ily you guys


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